So Lost Without You
by Cybernetic Denim
Summary: It's Roy's fault she's gone, and life seems too difficult to continue. Unfortunately, pain is something he still cannot handle and the gun feels too heavy in his hand.


I can still remember the way she looked at me. How could I ever forget? The way she wore her hair, up in that simple bun that accented her face so well, with her bangs hanging gently in front of her soft brown eyes. How she would look at me every time I said something or asked her a question, and she would simply nod an acknowledgement, her face showing no hint of emotion. But I knew it was there. Her face hid it so well, but her eyes betrayed her every time she looked at me. The one emotion she could never hide was her devotion to me and my work. She had sworn to protect me until I had succeeded in my goals, and that meant more to me than anything anyone else had said or done. She was behind me one hundred percent, no matter what. I know that in my life I've made some pretty bad decisions, especially that night a few years back, but she was always there, holding up her promise to me. She never questioned me, because if she had, I would be dead right now. That's what I told her. The second I make a decision she didn't like, she was to shoot me in my back. Yet here I am. I must have done something right.

I guess you could say that I loved her. I truly believe that. Even now, I still love her. She kept up a wall around her and her emotions, but on rare occasions, she let me see through that wall, let me take a look at the softer side of her tough outer shield, and it was those moments that confirmed my feelings for her. I never had any doubt before, but if I ever had, they were gone every time she let me see her smile, laugh, look affectionate or, rarer than any of the others, shed a tear or two. I hated seeing her cry. Her smile was much more preferred to her tears, but everyone has their moments where they just need to break down and cry, and as much as I hated it, I let her. Never once did she berate me for my feelings, at least not the true ones, so I would never do that to her. If she asked for it, I would comfort her. When she would laugh, I would laugh. When she smiled, I smiled. Her emotions were so contagious. Perhaps that was because she'd hardly show them, so when she did, I just couldn't help but share in them.

Was that true love? It feels like it. My heart would beat faster when I saw her, and I think she knew that. I think she could sense how she made me feel, and she was sensitive to that. Sure, she poked fun at me and made all kinds of jokes, but when it was just the two of us, she respected me and my feelings more than I could have ever asked for. I could have only hoped that she felt the same way, and I think, before she left, she did. I believe we were two people made for each other. A match made in Heaven, if you will. She was my other, better half. She was the bearer of the missing piece of my soul, the one who filled the hole in my heart and made it feel whole. She was my inspiration, the one who made me worry about her before I was going to sleep, wanting to know that she was alright, and my reason for waking up in the morning, knowing I would see her again.

But that was all over now. She was gone, and it was my fault. No longer would she smile, laugh or cry. Not that I would see, anyway. She hasn't looked at me in years. Her brown eyes haven't looked my way, her voice hasn't reached my ears, and I know in my heart, as much as I don't want to believe it, that I will never see her again. And it's all my fault. I was the one who wanted to go out that night, who had her sit in the passenger's seat. If only it had been her driving instead. She could be here today, sleeping in her bed, dreaming whatever it is she dreamed about at night. But it was me here. I don't dream, but that's because I don't even sleep much anymore. I can't. I see her in my dreams. I see her mangled body, her legs splayed out at odd angles, her brown eyes bleeding down her pale, cold skin. I see the pictures perfectly in my head. I dream, and I wake up crying. I always hope I can wake up from the dream and find that she's still here, by my side, but I wake up instead to the horrible reality: I killed her.

Those words haunt my every waking minute. I don't know how I've gone on without her. I miss her so much. I want her back, and I can't help but hope that each day I wake up will by my last. I want to be hit by another car, or have someone shoot me in the head, or have the sky rain so much it drowns the city, or have a building fall on top of me. I don't care how extreme it is, I want out. And the sad thing is, as much as I miss her, I can't take myself away from this life. I'm too much of a coward. Pain isn't something I take well when it's self-inflicted. I've tried. Years and years ago. When I look back to that time, I laugh. I really thought I had it bad back then? How wrong I was. Things are so much worse now. Back then, during the war, I didn't have the woman of my dreams. I hadn't even met her. I didn't know she existed.

I hate the person I've become. I used to be able to keep my composure under difficult circumstances. I'd even learned not to become too attached to those who died by my hand, or even my indirect command. But now, I've become an emotional wreck because I hold myself responsible for the death of the one person in the world that changed my life, made me become the person I aspired to be. I love her. And I can't stand that I have to wake up in the morning and not be with her.


End file.
